


Second Sight

by Laramie



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-15
Updated: 2016-10-15
Packaged: 2018-08-22 13:15:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8287085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laramie/pseuds/Laramie
Summary: It was not until he went to fix his hair that the problem presented itself. Jimmy paused in front of the mirror and stared. He got closer to the mirror. He stepped back. He tilted it this way and that.
   He had no reflection. There in the mirror, his clothes were standing up on their own, heaving with his alarmed breaths, with no head or hands or bare feet emerging from the edges.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I blame John Finnemore for giving me the idea and Abby for encouraging this ludicracy.
> 
> Caution for a brief non-con touching thing.

When Jimmy woke up, he did not immediately realise that anything was wrong. It being his day off, he lounged in bed for a little longer than usual before tugging on his suit ready to go out.

It was not until he went to fix his hair that the problem presented itself. Jimmy paused in front of the mirror and stared. He got closer to the mirror. He stepped back. He tilted it this way and that.

He had no reflection. There in the mirror, his clothes were standing up on their own, heaving with his alarmed breaths, with no head or hands or bare feet emerging from the edges. Looking down at himself, Jimmy could see his toes, his fingers, his palms; pulling the shirt away from his body he could see his chest. But in the mirror, nothing.

Watching himself, Jimmy quickly stripped the top half of his body. The clothes seemed to be unfastening themselves and dropping to the floor of their own accord. In the mirror, Jimmy's empty trousers were topped by… nothing. He could see straight through himself to his bedroom door, which stood ajar. It was a bit nauseating.

Jimmy decided to test his condition. Perhaps the mirror was just… malfunctioning. Very, very strangely. Hearing footsteps in the corridor, Jimmy hurried to his door, hiding most of his body (and his possibly-self-supporting trousers) behind it as he stuck his hand out and waved it in clear view of Alfred as he made his way down the corridor. There was no reaction at all. Jimmy wasn't sure whether to panic or not. On the one hand, being invisible seemed to throw up a world of possibilities. On the other hand, if he didn't _show up_ to work tomorrow, who knew what would happen.

"Oi!" Jimmy said sharply.

Alfred, jumpy at the best of times, walked on without a glance, passing Jimmy's door. Jimmy watched his back as he approached the stairs.

More footsteps: Thomas's. Jimmy could recognise them.

If anyone would still see Jimmy in this state, it would surely be Thomas. Jimmy tried the same trick of waving his arm at Thomas, and again received no reaction at all. This disappointed him more than being ignored by Alfred, but he told himself that it was just because it confirmed the notion: Jimmy was entirely invisible.

Jimmy turned back to his bedroom, unthinkingly seeking his own eyes in the mirror and seeing only his unoccupied trousers as proof of his existence.

Oh. If he wanted to go anywhere today, he was going to have to go _nude_ to avoid freaking anybody out with walking clothing. He thought he would stay in the house; he didn't fancy going to York, as had been his plan, and regaining his visibility unexpectedly.

This decided, he began to wonder what mischief he could get up to now that he could go unseen wherever he liked. First things first, he was getting hungry; a spot of breakfast was in order.

In the most irritating way possible.

-

Jimmy stood naked right by Lord and Lady Grantham and Lady Mary. This was not a situation he had ever expected to be in.

He had been amused by the idea of stealing off their plates, but in practice it proved very tricky; after all, his hand concealed nothing. Anything he filched would go moving through the air of its own accord.

Before he had managed to nick anything, it suddenly hit him that he had no idea what would happen to food when he swallowed it. He didn't want to walk around with the toast he was chewing fully visible nearly six foot off the ground.

He therefore gave up on stealing and instead entertained himself by making thoroughly impertinent remarks in response to practically everything the Crawleys said. He was only interrupted in this game when Thomas entered the room with another rack of toast. Jimmy smiled at him automatically before remembering that Thomas couldn't see him. A shame: Thomas would probably have liked nothing better than to see a naked Jimmy making witty comments about the family. Jimmy felt his cheeks heat up. His hands crept instinctively to conceal his privates, even though neither hands nor privates were visible.

He watched graceful Thomas place the toast rack on the table and turn with a flurry of coattails to return downstairs. Jimmy followed, bored with the antics of the upstairs folk. Maybe he could trip up Alfred or give Daisy a fright.

It took barely ten minutes to complete both assignments. He had cackled freely at Alfred's look of mingled confusion and consternation as he tried to work out what he had tripped on.

"Just your own silly feet," Jimmy told him, though he couldn't hear.

He kicked his heels in the overwarm kitchen for a bit before deciding to follow a few people about and find out what they actually _did_ all day. He started with Carson, but the butler only sat in his office and covered a sheet of paper with his sprawling, elegant handwriting. Very boring. The one perk was catching sight of a much younger-looking Carson in a photograph next to another man, in a weird get-up that looked like something out of a theatre. He had spotted it when Carson was rifling through his bottom drawer for something.

He'd tell Thomas about that later.

Next Jimmy wandered listlessly after Mrs Hughes as she hurried about here, there and everywhere. At one point she came to a doorway at the same time as Thomas; Thomas stepped back to let her pass through first, and it was fully five minutes later before Jimmy realised that he had started following Thomas instead, without even thinking about it. Being invisible was far less exciting than he had thought it might be, and he hoped that Thomas, as the most interesting person in the house, might liven the day up a bit.

There was a real dignity to Thomas's movements. Jimmy had never had chance to look properly before, though he had known that his friend had great poise. Even now, Jimmy struggled to remember to stand up straight, but it seemed to come entirely naturally to Thomas.

Jimmy spent the rest of the morning with Thomas, smirking at his muttered remarks and marvelling at his skill with anything he turned his hand to. Jimmy had never before realised how much work Thomas actually did.

Eventually, after lunch (which Jimmy gazed at longingly, his stomach rumbling), Thomas went up to his room. It was not until he had shut the two of them inside - Jimmy had hastily slipped through the door before Thomas closed it - that Jimmy realised he was going to get changed. Thomas brushed impatiently at something on his black trousers.

"I can't see anything," Jimmy told him pointlessly. Perhaps there was a damp spot. Despite himself, Jimmy found himself watching as Thomas unclipped his braces and unfastened the trousers. Thomas stepped out of them. His arm was outstretched to put them down somewhere when he frowned, his eyes on his thigh. The trousers ended up hanging off the end of his bed as Thomas inspected a now-obvious yellowish stain on his long johns.

Sighing irritably, Thomas made to take those off too, giving Jimmy only a second or two warning to close his eyes. It was plenty of time. Jimmy didn't close his eyes. He was rooted to the spot as Thomas's cock was revealed. He couldn't look away.

The spell was broken when Thomas bent to pull the long johns off over his feet. Jimmy took two giant steps forward until he was right in front of Thomas as he straightened up. He wasn't thinking about anything. He wrapped his hand around Thomas's prick.

Thomas started and jumped backwards, out of Jimmy's grip. He frowned, looking around the room and straight through Jimmy who was gazing at his face with a kind of amazement.

Inexorably, Jimmy stepped up to Thomas again and reached for his cock. This time Thomas flinched, but stayed where he was, staring down at himself. Jimmy began to stroke him, watching his hand move. He couldn't catch his breath. Thomas was starting to get hard. Jimmy was making him hard. But it was alright because no one could see him - no one knew what he was doing. No one knew that he was making Thomas gasp like that.

"Stop." Thomas said the word very firmly and distinctly.

Jimmy froze. He saw Thomas squinting in front of himself, unable to see who was touching him. Jimmy looked down at his hand on Thomas and was overwhelmed with shame. How could he do that when Thomas didn't even know that it was him? He let go.

"I'm sorry."

But no reaction. Thomas couldn't hear him.

Jimmy racked his brains. How could he apologise without being able to speak? In the end, he placed one hand gently on Thomas's shoulder.

Very slowly, Thomas raised a hand of his own and placed it over Jimmy's. He stood there, his brow furrowed. "Ed…ward?" he said hesitantly.

Who was Edward? Thomas's lover?

There was precious little time to ponder it; Thomas began sliding his palm down over Jimmy's wrist and Jimmy was forced to snatch it away before Thomas could discover anything. Like his identity. Or the fact that he was half-hard too.

Thomas shook his head vaguely. "I must be goin' crazy," he murmured as he crossed to his dresser and pulled out a clean pair of underwear. He put them on as he continued: "But if there's anyone, anythin', in 'ere, I'm goin' to open the door and you've got ten seconds to get out, right?"

Jimmy dodged out of the way as Thomas strode over to his bedroom door and opened it, heard him counting, "10, 9, 8…" under his breath.

Jimmy left. From inside Thomas's room, he heard, "2, 1," and the door closed behind him. Jimmy stood in the empty corridor and it was only then that he really began to panic.

He had been denying wanting Thomas for years, and yet the first moment the risk of consequences were gone, he… did _that._

He was probably just going wild with hunger, that was all: he had not eaten since the previous night. He did feel a bit lightheaded. Yes. That was all it was.

Jimmy started off down the corridor. He was just hungry, nothing else to it.

Then he thought of Thomas's gasp and faltered in his stride. His resolve wavered, and he jerked to a halt so abrupt it was as though a rope holding him to Thomas had come to its end. He stood breathing loudly in the middle of the corridor, conscious of every inch of his nakedness.

If Jimmy had kept moving at that point, perhaps he would have lost his nerve; perhaps inappropriate thoughts of Thomas would never again have entered his head. But he would never know, because in that moment he knew that he _did_ want Thomas, so he did not go back to his bedroom, nor anywhere else. He went back to Thomas's bedroom instead, and knocked.

There was a pause that seemed longer than it ought to be. It was difficult not to pound on the door with his fists, or just push inside without waiting for an answer. But Jimmy wanted to try to do things right this time.

The door swung open to reveal a fully-dressed Thomas, who gave a heavy sigh at the apparently empty air. He made to close the door, but before he could do so, Jimmy put his nearest hand out to it. As Thomas looked at the door, stopped by an unseen force, Jimmy put the other hand on Thomas's shoulder.

"It's _me_ ," he murmured despairingly.

Of course, Thomas heard nothing.

He did, however, step back, but not before taking the hand on his shoulder and holding it between them. Jimmy followed him into the room, tip-toeing in nervousness even though nobody could hear him. He closed the door behind them.

Thomas let go of Jimmy's hand, and Jimmy wished he had not. Thomas made a formidable sight, with his arms tightly crossed and a frown pinching his brow. "I want to know what's going on," Thomas said, quietly: he was probably wary of being overheard talking to himself.

This time, it was Jimmy's turn to take hold of Thomas's hand. He guided it up to his face and nudged against it. Slowly, Thomas traced the curves and angles of Jimmy's features. Jimmy closed his eyes at the touch, feeling goosebumps rising on his bare arms. This was _good_ , this was… so _much_ , and Thomas was so gentle.

" _Jimmy_?" Thomas whispered disbelievingly. "What - What the _hell_ -"

Jimmy wasn't sure he had ever heard Thomas swear before. Well - probably he _had_ ; but it certainly wasn't common, and it was a mark of how shocked Thomas was that he did so now.

"Aren't you in _York_?" Thomas hissed.

"Couldn't exactly go like this, could I?" Jimmy muttered, turning his head into Thomas's hand. He kissed Thomas's palm.

Thomas snatched back his hand. "Ex _plain_ it to me," he insisted, still remembering to keep his voice low. " _All_ of this." He turned his back and Jimmy briefly panicked, but he soon returned with pencil and paper in hand. Blindly, he held the items out. "Since you haven't said a word, I'm going to assume you can't; it's hard enough to shut you up normally. But if I can touch you, I'm sure you can write."

Grabbing the items, Jimmy dropped onto Thomas's bed with them, wondering how he could possibly explain something he had no understanding of. _**Don't know what happened**_ , he scrawled laboriously, while the bed dipped as Thomas joined him on the other side of the paper. _**Woke up invisible. Been following you, mostly.**_

Thomas had been frowning down at the words appearing in front of him, the pen moving itself across the paper. Now he looked up, his eyes searching the space where he couldn't see Jimmy sitting. "Why?"

With an impatient roll of his eyes, Jimmy scribbled, _**Because -**_ before lobbing the pen away in favour of scooting closer to Thomas - scrunching the paper in the process - cupping his cheek, and kissing him. Jimmy wasn't very good with words but _this_ \- this, he thought he could do, and judging by the small noise Thomas made against Jimmy's mouth, he agreed.

 

**Author's Note:**

> In case you're wondering where this ridiculous idea came from… In John Finnemore's Souvenir Programme, there's a bit where they mention an exhibition with so-and-so's invisible hand, adults only. And I thought, why on earth would it be adults only? And then I thought, ah. Maybe he's doing something uh… _adult_.


End file.
